


the wheel of fortune

by oryx



Category: Danball Senki
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, awkward teenage fumbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oryx/pseuds/oryx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gouda's attempts at befriending a stray cat give him a strange sense of déjà vu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wheel of fortune

There’s a field behind the apartment complex where he lives. He and the other neighborhood kids used to play baseball there back in elementary school, but nowadays the grass is overgrown – almost knee-high, speckled throughout with wildflowers and clumps of snarled weeds. Other than the occasional teenager sneaking a cigarette, no one goes back there anymore, which is why Hanzou’s gaze is immediately drawn one afternoon when he sees a flash of movement below his window. There’s no wind but the tall grass is rustling all the same, a dark shape moving stealthily through the undergrowth in a strange zigzag pattern. He watches it curiously for a minute. A rabbit, maybe?

 

But no, the grass parts and out steps a cat – older than a kitten but not quite an adult, black with white paws and a white chest. Hanzou blinks in surprise. Stray cats are rarer these days than they used to be, what with all the strict animal control laws being enforced. He supposes it could _technically_ belong to someone, but it isn’t wearing a collar, and it looks far too thin and wiry to be a housecat. It seems tired, too, tail drooping low, as if it’s been out all day in the intense summer heat.

 

The little cat lies down in the meager shade directly beneath his window, and Hanzou stares at it for a long moment before sighing. He’s going to have to go check on it now. Fuck, why does he have to be such a sucker for cute animals? In the kitchen he rummages through the refrigerator – pulls out some scraps of leftover chicken and pours some water into a bowl. It’s not much, but for now it’ll have to do. He edges his way through the living room where his dad is snoring on the couch, wary of the creaky spots on the floorboards. Stupid old man would do nothing but yell at him if he woke up now. (“Don’t feed it, dumbass, it’ll just keep coming around,” or something equally annoying.)

 

Hanzou pushes his way out the door and closes it softly behind him. God, but it’s hot – heat shimmering off the asphalt, the air so thick with humidity that he might as well be swimming through it. Everyone’s sequestered themselves inside today, which is probably for the best. His reputation as a badass motherfucker is already tenuous enough as it is. Being known as “that nice boy who feeds the stray cats” might destroy his credibility altogether.

 

As soon as he turns around the side of the building the little cat tenses up, leaping to its feet. Hanzou pauses. He takes a small, careful step forward. The cat’s ears flatten and its tail begins to swish angrily back and forth. Another step. It arches its back, fur bristling, baring its teeth in a sad attempt at a hiss.

 

“Well geez, aren’t you a grumpy little fucker,” he mutters, reaching down to place the food and water within the cat’s line of vision, then retreats back to a reasonable distance to observe. For several minutes it merely sits there, statue-like, glaring at him with wide, wary green eyes. But it’s hungry and suffering in the heat – that much is obvious – and caution can only get one so far in life. Ever so slowly it begins to creep towards the food.

 

Hanzou doesn’t move from his spot – doesn’t even make a sound – but all the same the cat still keeps an eye on him as it eats, as if it expects him to lunge forward and attack at any moment. Hanzou smiles wryly as he watches the little cat. Its blatant mistrust is rather amusing.

 

(And there’s something in the way it looks at him that is strangely, inexplicably… familiar.)

 

.

 

.

 

The cat returns the day after next. It allows him to edge a few steps closer before hissing, which he takes to be a small victory, and it no longer watches him quite as cagily. But if it came back once, he knows, it’ll come back again, and he’s quickly running out of foods suitable for feline consumption. So later that evening he shoves some money in his back pocket and heads to the convenience store down the road, pointedly ignoring his old man’s shouts of “oi, where the hell do you think you’re going?? The game’s almost over and we’re losing! I need you for good luck!”

 

The sun is on the verge of setting but it’s still damn near scorching outside, pavement radiating heat through the thin soles of his sandals. Sweat is beading on his forehead, but the mere idea of reaching up to swipe it away seems like more trouble than it’s worth. The clerk at the convenience store gives him a weary look when he steps inside, eyes flickering pointedly to the “No Shirt, No Shoes, No Service” sign, but she doesn’t bother trying to kick him out. How anyone can be expected to wear a shirt in this weather is beyond Hanzou’s understanding.

 

She gives him another look – this one more confused than anything – when he deposits five cans of cat food and an LBX magazine on the counter.

 

“What?” he says, scowling. “You got a problem?”

 

“… Certainly not, _sir_ ,” she deadpans, and gets to work ringing up his purchases.

 

Stepping out of the air-conditioned convenience store is pure torture. It feels like the heat is trying to consume him whole, seeping underneath his skin and into his veins, pressing a veil of tiredness over his eyes. He groans and leans his weight against a nearby fence. Home is just down the street but god, it feels so far away. Putting one foot in front of the other should not be this difficult.

 

“The weather too much for you, Gouda?” a voice says. “The Destruction God of Hell outdone by a little summer heatwave? How sad.”

 

Hanzou lifts his eyes and Sendou is suddenly, inexplicably there, standing in front of him with that fucking smirk plastered on his face. Where the hell did he even come from? Did Hanzou doze off for a moment, or is Sendou Daiki some kind of secret master of stealth?

 

“As if,” he mutters. “I’m just stopping for a second to… appreciate the beauty of nature.”

 

Sendou raises an eyebrow. Despite his jibes, he’s clearly miserable as well – a tired look about him, strands of hair plastered wet and dark to his forehead and the nape of his neck. He’s wearing a loose tank-top, and Hanzou finds himself staring absently at the sharp line of his collarbone, the pale, sweat-slick skin of his throat.

 

“Mmhmm. You look so very pleased to be out here in the midst of all this _glorious_ nature. What’s in the bag, anyway?”

 

Hanzou tugs his hand back, pulling the plastic bag away from Sendou’s prying gaze. “None of your business,” he says, maybe a touch too defensive.

 

Sendou rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Just go home already, idiot. You seem like you’re about to pass out from heat stroke or something.”

 

“Hmm? What’s this?” Hanzou grins and reaches out; slings an arm around Sendou’s shoulders. “Are you _worried_ about me?”

 

“Heh, keep dreaming,” Sendou sneers. He swats Hanzou’s hand away. “Just embarrassed by how pathetic you look. And if you touch me again I swear to god you will regret it. It’s way too fucking hot for that shit. The last thing I want is your disgusting sweat all over me.”

 

He turns aside, eyes flashing in annoyance, and all Hanzou can think in this moment is _oh, I get it now, so **that’s** why the cat seemed so familiar_.

 

(The cat comes back the next day, still indignant as ever when Hanzou gets too close, glaring up at him balefully as its tail lashes side to side.

 

“You need a name, don’t you?” Hanzou murmurs. A thought occurs to him, then, and an amused smile tugs at his lips.

 

“How about… Dai-chan?”)

 

.

 

.

 

“Hey, uh… You like cats?”

 

Sendou pauses, cigarette halfway to his lips, turning to stare at him incredulously. “Haa? Cats? The fuck are you on about?”

 

“Just give me a yes or no,” Hanzou says. “You like cats or not?”

 

Sendou’s bemused expression doesn’t waver. “Yeah… I guess?” he mutters. “They’re less obnoxious than dogs at the very least. Why are you asking me about animals? Or do I not want to know?”

 

Hanzou flips open his CCM to check the time. Dai-chan usually shows up at roughly the same hour every day – four in the afternoon – and it’s a quarter til four now. But for some reason the idea of introducing Sendou to his cat is strangely conflicting. He feels like a dumbass for thinking it, but Dai-chan is like… his secret summer project or something. Not meant to be shared with others. But it’s only sensible that the two Dai-chans should meet, right? He wars with himself for a moment before giving in.

 

“C’mon,” he says, tugging lightly on Sendou’s wrist. “I wanna show you something.”

 

Sendou sighs and draws a tarot card. It seems to be an encouraging fortune, as he merely grimaces and allows himself be led down the street.

 

“What the hell are we doing back here?” Sendou asks as they turn around the side of Hanzou’s apartment building. He’s trying to sound bored, but there’s a hint of something else – nervousness? – in his voice. “This seriously looks like the set-up for a fight. What did I do to piss you off this time, exactly?”

 

“Shh,” Hanzou hisses. “Keep it down, will you? You’ll scare him off.”

 

“…‘Him’?”

 

Dai-chan is curled up in the shade as usual, and his ears perk up when he hears the two of them approach. His green eyes glint as he turns to look at them. He seems suspicious of Sendou, but only for a moment, as he soon gets to his feet and ambles over, staring up at Hanzou expectantly.

 

“I left some food for you earlier,” Hanzou laughs, reaching down to scritch him behind the ears. “Sorry, Dai-chan. I don’t have anything else on me.”

 

(If it’s possible for a cat to look unimpressed, Dai-chan somehow manages it.)

 

When Hanzou glances over, Sendou is massaging his temples tiredly. “Of course,” he sighs. “A cat. You drag me all the way back here just to show me a fucking _cat_. I should’ve guessed that it would be something inane and pointless. And what kind of name is ‘Dai-chan,’ anyway?”

 

“It’s ‘cause he’s you in cat form,” Hanzou says with a grin. “Seriously, look at him. You don’t see the resemblance?”

 

Sendou and Dai-chan lock eyes in a (rather adorable) staring contest. Almost as if they were sizing each other up.

 

“Not particularly, no,” Sendou says finally. “And really – naming a cat after me? That’s more than a little weird, Gouda.”

 

Shit, Hanzou thinks, struck by a sudden moment of clarity. He’s right. Who the hell names a pet after their archrival?

 

“I-it’s not _that_ weird,” he huffs. The back of his neck feels hot. “He totally looks like you. You’re just being willfully obtuse, man.” He reaches down and wraps his arms around Dai-chan, lifting him up. “Look, his eyes are a different colour but they’re still really similar – ow! Fuck!”

 

Dai-chan writhes around in his grasp, hissing angrily, claws raking across his hands and wrists hard enough to draw blood. Cursing under his breath, Hanzou hurries to set him down again, leaning as far away as possible from the vicious whirl of claws and teeth. Being petted is one thing. Being manhandled, it seems, is something else entirely. Dai-chan retreats to the shade with a haughty flick of his tail and begins to groom himself aggressively.

 

Sendou is struggling to hide his laughter.

 

“You know,” he says. “I kind of see it now. The resemblance, I mean.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Hanzou mutters, wincing at the brilliant red scratch marks that now decorate the backs of his hands. “Real funny.”

 

.

 

.

 

He’s on the verge of nodding off when someone’s foot connects rather painfully with his spine.

 

“What the hell!?” he exclaims, tipping his head back to find Sendou glowering down at him.

 

“You were _supposed_ to meet me at the model shop an hour ago, dumbass,” Sendou hisses. “But instead you’re just sitting here in the dirt like a fucking waste of space. Thanks so much, Gouda. You do realize that’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back, right?”

 

“Geez, sorry,” Hanzou mutters, rubbing the sore spot between his shoulder-blades where Sendou kicked him. “I’m waiting for Dai-chan, okay? He didn’t come by yesterday. …I’m worried about him.”

 

Sendou makes a frustrated noise. “The cat again? Seriously? He’s a _stray_ , you ridiculous idiot. He knows how to take care of himself. Which is more than can be said for you. You’re so sunburnt it’s almost hilarious.”

 

There is a contemplative pause, and Sendou’s fingers are suddenly there, resting lightly on the nape of Hanzou’s neck. The touch is so gentle it’s almost nonexistent – fingertips ghosting just above the skin. Despite the heat of the day a shiver courses through him. The skin there is raw and hurting and it shouldn’t feel good but it _does_ , and Hanzou unconsciously arches up into the touch.

 

Sendou seems to remember himself, then, and he draws his hand back lightning-quick. An uncomfortable silence falls over them.

 

“Uhh.” Hanzou clears his throat awkwardly. “What – ”

 

The long grass in front of him rustles and Dai-chan steps out, and Hanzou promptly forgets whatever embarrassing nonsense he was about to spout. He breathes a sigh of relief. Dai-chan looks a bit grumpier than usual, fur in disarray and brambles stuck to his tail, but he doesn’t seem to be hurt or sick in any way. The little cat pads up to the food bowl and begins to eat without sparing Hanzou a glance. When he’s finished he walks over and nudges his head against Sendou’s leg, meowing softly, asking to be petted.

 

“Oh what the _hell_ ,” Hanzou exclaims. “What about me??”

 

Sendou looks momentarily taken aback, but soon enough his eyes are glinting with amusement and that obnoxious smirk is curving his lips. He crouches down next to Hanzou, scritching Dai-chan in that spot under his chin that he loves so much. Dai-chan purrs and flops down in the dirt, rolling over so that Sendou can pet his belly.

 

“Oh dear. It seems you’ve been replaced, Gouda. When even your cat ditches you, that’s when you know you’re a real loser.”

 

“Shaddup,” Hanzou mutters. “…But seriously, what the hell? You some kind of… _cat whisperer_ or something? He wouldn’t let me touch him at all for the entire first week!”

 

“Hmm. Perhaps the smell of your obvious idiocy kept him at bay,” Sendou says, biting his lip to keep from laughing. “Don’t animals have a sixth sense for these things?”

 

Hanzou glowers at him. “You’re really enjoying this way too much,” he grumbles, but Sendou doesn’t bother gracing him with a reply. He’s still petting Dai-chan, and the expression on his face is strangely tender – eyes soft and thoughtful, smile faint but there all the same. Hanzou stares without meaning to. There’s a tight feeling in his chest that he can’t quite place.

 

“Hey, Sendou,” he says. His voice sounds distant from himself.

 

Sendou turns towards him, and for some reason Hanzou finds himself looking at his mouth, his slightly parted lips, and his pulse is suddenly thudding overloud in his ears. Anticipation prickles at his skin. Nervousness is twisting his stomach into knots. He reaches out and cups Sendou’s face in his hand, thumb brushing along the line of his cheekbone, and Sendou’s eyes widen just a fraction.

 

Hanzou takes a deep, shuddering breath.

 

And then he leans forward to press their lips together.

 

Half of him (the part that is hopeful and naïve) expects to be kissed back, while the other half expects to be slugged across the face. Either would be welcome in their own way. But in the end, what he gets... is nothing at all. No response. Not even the faintest flinch or intake of breath. Sendou is as still and unmoving as a statue, and Hanzou breaks away with a sheepish smile, trying to stifle the sheer, mortified embarrassment that is threatening to set his face on fire.

 

“Shit, I’m uh… Sorry,” he says, with a fake, forced laugh. “I don’t know what that was. You can just… You can just forget that ever happened, if you want – ”

 

“I’m going home,” Sendou says quietly. His face is unreadable. He stands up without another word, spinning on his heel and walking away.

 

“W-wait, hey, you don’t have to – ”

 

But Sendou only walks faster, hands clenched at his sides, turning around the corner of the building and vanishing from sight before Hanzou can finish his train of thought. Hanzou stares after him for nearly a minute, willing him to please, please come back, a feeling of dismay settling gradually on his shoulders. But Sendou doesn’t return. Hanzou is once again alone, sitting in the dust with his sunburn aching and this ungrateful cat glaring at him, only this time he’s keenly aware of how quiet and empty it is back here in the field.

 

“Oh god,” he whispers, and hangs his head. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

 

Dai-chan, of course, does not reply, but the look in his eyes seems to say “yes, you idiot, you really, really did.”

 

.

 

.

 

When he wakes the next morning (mid-afternoon, more like), there are more messages than usual waiting for him on his CCM.

 

 _where r u? u ok??_ Rico’s texts are always rather succinct.

 

Kinji’s is slightly more verbose:

 

_We have that tag-team battle with those guys from Namidori today. We were supposed to practice at the shop first. Did you forget?_

 

There are a few more besides, mostly random question marks and frowny faces from Tetsuo. Hanzou stares at them blankly for a few moments before pressing delete. If it’s a three-person tag team battle, they don’t _really_ need him, do they? They’ll be fine on their own, he thinks, nodding to himself.

 

He’s just not in the mood to do much of anything today. His thoughts feel sluggish and his body feels heavy, and despite just waking up there is tiredness pulling at him. He sinks down on to the couch and flips on the television. Soccer’s on the sports channel. Inazuma Japan is playing against… some country or another. He’s not sure which. He follows the movements of the players with his eyes but can barely keep up with what’s happening, startled when the announcer screams about a goal being made.

 

An hour passes, or maybe two, and still he’s wrapped in this strange, lifeless fog. (He tries not to think about why.)

 

There is a knock on the door. He ignores it. It’s probably one of the neighbors, and making small talk about the weather is the last thing he wants to do right now. But no, there it is again – louder this time, and more impatient.

 

“Alright, alright,” he calls. He sighs and pushes himself to his feet. “I’m coming. Hold your damn horses.”

 

He opens the door and comes face to face with Sendou.

 

“Oh,” he says. Eloquent as always. His mouth has gone dry, and he licks his lips nervously. After the events of yesterday he hadn’t expected to see Sendou again so soon, much less have the guy show up on his doorstep.

 

“Is your dad home?” Sendou says. His tone is brusque and overly-casual, and he refuses to meet Hanzou’s gaze.

 

“My… dad? Uh… Nah, he’s at work right now, but why – oi!”

 

Sendou is pushing past him, kicking off his shoes in the entranceway like he owns the damn place. He reaches over, slamming the door shut with one hand and grabbing Hanzou’s wrist in the other, dragging him bodily towards the couch. Before he can fully parse what’s happening he’s being shoved on to it, pressed down into the cushions as Sendou climbs on top of him, a determined gleam in his eye.

 

“Wait, what,” is all he has a chance to say before he is cut off by a rather aggressive kiss.

 

He lies there in shock for several moments as his mind struggles to catch up. Sendou’s lips are pressed firm against his own, forceful and searing hot but also somehow… awkward? It’s all far too precise, like he’s got some kind of step-by-step instruction manual running through his head. Sendou runs his tongue along Hanzou’s bottom lip, catches it lightly between his teeth, and it feels amazing, yeah, but Hanzou could almost laugh at the stiltedness of it.

 

Sendou breaks away and stares at him expectantly, a faint flush high in his cheeks.

 

“Um,” Hanzou says. His heart is pounding in a way that seems almost unhealthy, and he takes a shaky breath. “Wow. I, uh… okay. Wow.”

 

“Okay?” Sendou echoes. His eyes narrow. “I spend hours researching how to do that, and that’s all I get? _Okay?_ ”

 

Hanzou blinks up at him. “Researching? What are you…” A thought occurs to him, then, and his words gradually trail off into nothing. Realization dawns on him slowly, disbelief pressing in on the edges of his mind. “You can’t mean – yesterday, that was… your first kiss?”

 

“So what if it was?” Sendou’s frown deepens, brow knitting together in that cute way it does when he’s Only Mildly Irritated.

 

“…Oh my god,” Hanzou breathes. “No fucking way. Your first kiss? _Ever?_ ”

 

“I’m not sure why you’re finding this so hard to believe.”

 

“Well, I mean… You’re just – ” _really sexy,_ his mind oh-so-helpfully supplies, but there’s no way in hell he’s saying that out loud. Instead he settles for some vague, incomprehensible hand gestures. “You _really_ never kissed anyone before? Never even messed around with girls in middle school…?”

 

Sendou is very close to leaving Only Mildly Irritated behind and skipping straight to Most Definitely Pissed. “And why,” he says, a dangerous edge to his voice, “would I want to do that, exactly?”

 

Good question. Hanzou thinks back on some of the girls he “dated” in junior high and can no longer remember why he bothered. He hadn’t really _liked_ any of them. Not in that way, at least. Everyone around him had been babbling about romance, red-faced and starry-eyed as they talked about their “crushes,” and so he’d just… gone with the flow. Said yes to whichever cute girl decided they wanted a delinquent boyfriend for a week. It had seemed like the thing to do at the time.

 

“Well now I’m curious,” Sendou is saying. “Exactly how many people have _you_ ‘messed around with’?” He’s going for a scornful, derisive look, but honestly he just looks rather hurt.

 

Hanzou laughs nervously. “Let’s, uh… Let’s not talk about that right now,” he says, and reaches up to tangle his fingers in Sendou’s hair, pulling him down for another kiss. He presses eagerly into Sendou’s mouth and it opens for him, hot and wet and pliant, and where their tongues touch it feels like an electric jolt. Sendou tastes like cigarette smoke and something namelessly sweet. He traces circles with his thumb on the nape of Sendou’s neck, pulling him even closer. His other hand curls around Sendou’s waist, fingers digging sharp into his hip, and Sendou makes a low, contented noise in the back of his throat, not unlike a moan.

 

When finally they break apart they’re both breathing hard, and Sendou has a dazed look about him, his gaze unfocused and his lips red and swollen. Hanzou can’t stop himself from grinning.

 

“Man, I still can’t believe I got your first kiss.”

 

“Oh please.” Sendou manages to recover enough to scowl at him, though his tone lacks its usual bite. “Wipe that disgusting smile off your face, will you? You’re creeping me out.”

 

Hanzou merely laughs and – with a single, fluid movement – flips their positions, so that he’s the one looking down at a rather startled Sendou. His knee is pressed between Sendou’s thighs.

 

“Did you also research what comes next?” he jokes, bending down to press his lips to Sendou’s neck, just above his racing pulse. He trails light kisses along the line of his jaw, and – 

 

Beneath him, Sendou goes very tense.

 

“Yes,” he says, in a voice that sounds somehow _off_.

 

Hanzou pulls back to stare at him. He’s trying to look nonchalant, baring his teeth in a haughty smile, but there’s a flicker of apprehension in his eyes that he can’t quite conceal.

 

“I’ll have you know that I studied up quite thoroughly,” he says with a ‘hmph.’ “So go ahead. Unless you’re too scared, Hanzou-kun?”

 

Sendou’s fingers are trembling. Hanzou can feel them shaking where they’re pressed against his knee, and he claps a hand to his mouth to keep from laughing. A sudden surge of affection wells up inside him, settling warm in the hollow of his chest. Who knew empty bravado could be so adorable?

 

“You know… most people usually wait more than a day in between their first kiss and their first, uh…” He clears his throat awkwardly. “Well, anyways. I’m just saying – maybe it’d be better to take things slow? A ‘one step at a time’ kinda deal? You don’t have to, y’know, _force_ yourself – ”

 

In a glorious stroke of fate, this Uncomfortable Conversation to End All Uncomfortable Conversations is interrupted by a loud, belligerent meow that floats in through the open window.

 

He and Sendou stare at each other blankly for a long moment.

 

“…Let me guess,” Sendou sighs. “You forgot to feed the cat.”

 

.

 

.

 

“So how long are you planning to keep this little pet of yours back here? It would be safer inside, you know. Wouldn’t have to sit around worrying if it got hit by a car or something.”

 

“Yeah,” Hanzou murmurs, petting Dai-chan’s head. He frowns thoughtfully. “But this building doesn’t allow animals, and there’s no way my old man would go for it anyhow. I guess I could try and find someone to adopt him, but…”

 

He looks into those wide green eyes and bites his lip. If Dai-chan got adopted by some random person he wouldn’t be able to see him anymore. The thought hurts in a rather embarrassing way. Stupid little cat with its whiskers and its white paws and its stupidly adorable face.

 

“I’ll take him,” Sendou says abruptly.

 

Hanzou glances up at him, eyes wide. “What?”

 

“I said I’ll take him.” He shrugs. “Don’t know much about taking care of cats, but it can’t be too difficult, right? And,” here he looks away, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt, “my house is pretty empty most of the time. Could use some company, even if it is just an animal.”

 

Hanzou blinks at him.

 

“Really?” he says, the corner of his mouth curling into a small, hesitant smile. “So I’d be able to come visit him every once in a while? …Just to make sure you’re being a responsible pet owner, I mean.”

 

“Tch. Whatever.” Sendou rolls his eyes. “Come by if you want. I honestly don’t care either way.”

 

Hanzou realizes with a jolt that Sendou is blushing – face and neck turned a delicate shade of pink. He bites back a startled laugh, his smile curving into a sly grin.

 

“… Is this just an excuse to get me alone in your house?” he says, and barely manages to duck out of the way when Sendou chucks a rock at his head.


End file.
